Apocalyptic Journals
by Baby-Bat-1790
Summary: You know what. When brain-munching zombies start showing up all over the place, what happens to the people who happens to be anywhere but home? Well let's find out! A group of ridiculously international university students find themselves in quite a pickle as a mix of viruses, family issues, and malfunctioning governments seriously ruin their summer-break.
1. A Perfect Start To A Perfect Summer

_WARNING! This story contains swearing, non-graphic gore, loss of limbs, minor characters death, minor OCs, family issues, minor homophobia, and bad puns._  
 _While it contains lot's of romantic relationships, it does not contain mature themes in that area._

 _I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia or it's characters. These belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. I only own the plot and any OCs included in this story. This work is made for fun and I do not make any kind of profit from it._

* * *

You know what. When brain-munching zombies start showing up all over the place, what happens to the people who happens to be anywhere but home? Well let's find out!

A group of ridiculously international university students find themselves in quite a pickle as a mix of viruses, family issues, and malfunctioning governments seriously ruin their summer-break. With everyone having their own reason for not being able to go home, Francis offers refuge in his family's holiday mansion on the British countryside. But can the mismatched group of lovers, friends, enemies, and frenemies make it there from America in one piece?

Probably not. But this would be a pretty boring story if everything went smoothly, right?

Friends and enemies are made, ships set sail, and some people still can't accept that everyone's different.

This will be awesome!

* * *

They'd been on their way towards the Canadian border when shit hit the fan. Luckily they hadn't gotten that far. Or, well, as lucky as one can be when stuck in the bloody zombie-apocalypse. To be honest they were probably in the best place possible considering the circumstances. Or second best. Best would have been back at school. According to the radio, the military had turned most of the place into a fort. But they did ok. They were mobile. They had food and water for a day or so. They had a radio. They had Matthews hockey-stick and Alfred's baseball bat. And hopefully enough fuel to make it back to school without ending up as an all you can eat brain-buffet. No biggie, right?

* * *

"Remind me to kill anyone who ever says a good word about that freaking car." Alfred uttered what was his surprisingly only third sentence since they left the car. His head kept on drifting to the right, ready to rise his bat at the slightest hint of undead in the alleys.

"I'll remind you tomorrow when you start to complain about missing the damn thing." Matthew mirrored his brother, keeping watch to their left.

Despite Matthews injured foot the twins had managed to wobble quite far from where their car broke down. If they just made it past that building, they would see campus on their left. Alfred carefully looked around the corner. The hundred or so meters to the barricade now surrounding the school were completely empty. Save for the soldier on watch duty.

Fuck yeah.

The guard raised his gun as soon as the boys rounded the corner. Alfred decided to handle this as he usually handled people seemingly out to murder him. An award-wining smile. With the new addition of waiving like a maniac with a bloody bat. At least is seemed to be enough to prove they were still human. They could see the guard turning to shout to someone on the other side of the barricade. Though they couldn't hear what. Partly due to the distance, partly due to the high-pitched screeching coming from behind them. Way too close behind them. Alfred let go of Matthew. He spun around, bat raised. Sprinting towards them was a former female. Missing an arm, half a face, and most traces of humanity. Her skull made a sickening crunch when hit by the metal bat. The swing sent the zombie to the ground. Two more ensured she wouldn't move more anytime soon. And so things were once more fine. Or would have been if not for the three new zombies lured there by the noise. Thank God for the American army.

A bullet put a second end to the closest creature. The other two were still too far away to be an immediate threat. Though the commotion seemed to be attracting more of them.

Alfred grabbed Matthew again. They wobbled on towards safety. Slowly, like a snail racing a turtle though a pool of syrup. The zombies where NOT slow like a snail racing a turtle through a pool of syrup.

Fuck.

Couldn't they have been Night of The Living Dead zombies?

A gate opened in the barricade. Four men ran to meet them. The first one picked up Matthew and threw him across the shoulders. He started running back, Alfred in tow. The rest took out the remaining zombies. Once safely back behind walls the brothers were brought off to the side. What had previously been an indoors gym now looked like a makeshift hospital. Makeshift hospitals usually look like makeshift hospitals. That's kind of what makes them makeshift hospitals.

As Matthew was getting his foot wrapped ("Pretty bad sprain, but you'll be right as rain in no time!") there was a small commotion outside the door. An awesome commotion. It ended when an albino boy managed to get himself let into the room, red eyes blazing. He went straight up to Matthew, pulling him into a hug that would probably have crushed the bones of most. Or, maybe not. But it kind of felt like it.

Matt chuckled. "Salut, Gilbert."

"Arschgeige." Gilbert backed off, though not very far. "Mein Gott Birdie! Would it kill you to answer your damn phone‽"

Alfred made a face. "It seems like we might have collectively forgotten to charge our phones…"

Matthew took one of Gilberts hands. "Sorry. I understand if you're mad-"

Gilbert snorted. "Mad? Mad? Du hast doch einen Vogel. I'm not mad. Ich bin fuchsteufelswild! I've barely slept for two days because I couldn't get your dead body out of my head!" He rubbed his free hand down his face. "The heck would I have done if you'd not made it back?"

Matthew looked down at his knees. "I'm sorry Gil…"

Gilbert sighed and pulled Matthew into another hug. "It's ok Birdie. You're here. But the next time you decide to take a road trip through Project Zomboid, charge your fucking Handy."

"Hand-what?" Alfred looked up from the medical equipment he'd been examining.

"Cell phone in German," Gilbert answered.

"Oh."

* * *

"Aiyaa! You're back!"

After getting a pair of crutches, Matthew, Alfred, and Gilbert had made their way towards the campus building where all of them lived. Outside they were now greeted by a Chinese boy sporting an over-sized panda hoodie and a cigarette.

"Almost thought you'd made it to your grandmother instead."

"Hey Yao! And nah." Alfred readjusted his backpack. "She got a hold of us before our phones died. Concluded it was better to just go back here."

Yao nodded. "Well…" He smacked Alfred across the back of his head. "Answer your damn phone next time, bèn dàn! I almost had to chew Kikus food for him because he was too worried to eat!" he turned towards Matthew. "And that goes for you to! Gil's been just as bad as Kiku!"

Both twins kept their eyes on the ground, and mumbled "Sorry".

Gilbert shrugged. "Ah, es ist wurscht. They're here now. Let's just go tell Kiku."

Yao nodded, though he still sent angry looks the twins' way. As they made their way inside he put out his cigarette and muttered something. Probably the mandarin equivalent of "fucking idiots".

Entering the common area their noses were assaulted by what could only be Francis' cooking.

"Hey, qīngwā! I hope you made enough for two extra!" Yao jelled while removing his shoes.

A head of blonde, wavy hair in a pony tail poked out from the kitchen to their right. "And why do I-"The spatula Francis had had fell to the floor with the sound of, well, a spatula falling to the floor. "Merde! You're back!"

"Yeah," Alfred grunted as he tried to remove his shoes without falling over. "Barely." He chucked the sneaker to the side. "Where's Kiku?"

Francis frowned and picked up his spatula. "He's on his room, améric- "

Alfred stormed past the Frenchman and up the stairs to the sleeping quarters.

Francis stared after him, mouth open. He then shook his head and turned to the trio still by the door. "Come in here. You look like you need some food."

Once seated around the small kitchen table, Francis all but shoved utensils in Matthew and Gilberts hands.

"Yikes. No need to stab me with the fork," Gilbert muttered while staring down at the plate Francis put in front of him.

"You've barely eaten for almost two days. By now I'm all but ready to shove a funnel down your throat and pour soup in it. As for you," Francis turned to Matthew. "I doubt there were any _McDonald's_ or similar open on the way. Here," He placed another plate on the table. "Eat."

Knowing Francis probably wouldn't let him off until he had to be rolled away, Matthew said a quick 'thanks' and dug in. Gilbert followed him, but not before muttering something about 'French motherhens'. They'd been inhaling French cuisine for about fifteen minutes when Alfred showed up in the doorway, arm glued around his boyfriend Kikus waist. No one mentioned their slightly red faces and puffy eyes.

Alfred was the first one to speak, voice slightly raw. "So. What's for lunch?"

"Des caillous," Francis answered while placing their meals at the table.

"Sounds delicious," Alfred said with a grin before digging in with the enthusiasm of a badger just out of hibernation.

Yao snorted at the inside joke. "Explains the lack of taste," he said from the counter he was sitting on, plate balanced in his lap.

Francis pointed the spatula at him. "Mange des carottes, ça rend aimable. Not everyone wants half a ton of spices in their food."

"Perhaps not, but _some_ seasoning would be nice."

Matthew decided to interrupt the impending argument. The two chef students were usually pretty good friends, but would bicker to the moon and back over the correct way to season a duck.

"So, where's everyone?" he chirped in around a mouthful of vegetables.

Yao kept his glare at Francis while he answered. "Ivan and Opium are in their rooms, Toni and Lovino went for a walk, and Feli and Ludwig went to get our dorms rations for the week." He took out his phone and started texting. "They should all be here soon."

"Rations?" Alfred looked up from his plate.

This time Kiku answered. "Hai. There's not much food on campus since most people were going home over the summer. Since he can't just go to the store right now, the military's handing out rations."

"I sure hope they're American sized." In the doorway stood a blonde guy with very bushy eyebrows. "Or we'll have a bloody hell of a problem feeding the American-sized stomachs of most people here." He turned to Matthew and Alfred. "Good to see you two back alive."

"Hello Arthur."

"Sup."

Arthur went to collect his own plate, before leaning against the counter next to the still texting Yao.

"Hello Opium," Yao said before taking another mouthful of food.

Arthur scowled. "Don't call me that."

Yao just blew a raspberry.

It wasn't many minutes later when the front door opened and happy chatter could be heard from the hallway. Gilbert reluctantly left Matthews side and headed towards the source of the sound. He soon returned carrying a bag. Behind him followed two men, one with auburn hair and a strange curl, the other with slicked back blonde hair and a stern expression.

Gilbert went up to the counter. He turned and pointed to the twins at the table. "Hey, look who made it back alive!" he stated with a grin before he started unpacking their rations.

Alfred looked up. "Hi Feli, Lud."

Feliciano gave up a screech, before engulfing both twins in a hug. "Mio Dio! I thought for sure you were dead!"

"Fat chance in hell," Alfred grinned. "It takes more than a couple of brain-munchers to take down the Jones-William brothers!"

"You couldn't sleep in your room for a week because you thought there was a ghost in your closet." The heavily accented voice floating in from the doorway belonged to another blonde, taller than any of the others and with a scarf wrapped around his neck. He was leaning against the doorframe, smiling.

Alfred crossed his arms as pink spots started to appear on his neck. "I was younger then Ivan!"

"It was last month."

The pink spots spread and Alfred muttered. "Shut it commie. And it's a completely different thing! You can see and kill a zombie, but not a ghost!"

Before Ivan could retort, Ludwig interrupted. "Stop it. Both of you. I know you've never been on the best of terms, but at least, **at least** refrain from fighting when there're zombies running around." He went back to putting away food, somehow simultaneously returning Feliciano's octopus-imitation.

Ivan sighed, but walked up to Alfred with his hand outstretched. "I guess apocalypse is as good a reason as we're going to get. So let's bury war axe comrade, hm?"

Alfred stared at the hand as if it was an extremely livid chihuahua, before grunting and shaking it. "Fine commie. We'll give it a try. Just don't call me comrade.

"As you want, _Fredka._ "

Ludwig just groaned and went to get his food.

It didn't take long before the last two inhabitants of the dorm arrived. Antonia loudly chattered about how happy he was that the American-Canadian twins were back alive. Lovino, Feliciano's one-year older brother, just grumbled something about Alfred once again escaping the clutches of natural selection.

The sun was setting when everyone had eaten and the dishes were done. The group had all gathered in the common area. They'd spread out amongst chairs, sofas, and available floorspace.

"So," Francis started while he sank deeper into one of the armchairs. "How about you two tell us what happened to you, and we'll tell you what info we've been given?"

The question in question was directed towards Matthew and Alfred. So the twins gave a walkthrough of what had happened. From deciding to come back to school, to getting stuck at a shelter on the way and barely getting out, to the car breaking down, to Matthew taking out his first two zombies with the bat while Alfred got their bags, to Alfred taking out his first just after Matthews injury, and his second just outside the barricade. The two were in the middle of arguing over whether Alfred had screamed with the pitch of a nazgûl or not at the first attack ("Did too!" "Did not!" "Did too!" "…It was a manly shout!") when Arthur cleared his throat.

"So, should we move on to what the military told us?"

Alfred, more than happy to move on from his imitation of the Cowardly Lion, nodded. "Sure thing! But first…" He pointed at Ludwig and Feliciano, the former on the floor leaning against the couch, and the later in the formers lap. "Is it just me, or are you guys cuddling way more than usually? What did we miss?"

Ludwig turned his head away, muttering something undistinguishable. Gilbert and Yao were imitating dying ducks in a corner.

Arthur gave them a sour look before look before answering. "Apparently it took an apocalypse to make these two confess their feelings. They got together yesterday."

Alfred grinned. "Really? That's awesome! Congrats guys!"

Feliciano beamed. "Grazie!" he laughed while snuggling closer to Ludwig.

"Danke." Ludwig looked like he tried to stay serious, but couldn't help the small smile that bloomed when he returned the embrace.

Arthur cleared his throat for the second time in as many minutes. "Now if we've got that out of the way, let's move on to zombie 101." He opened a Union Jack notebook he'd fetched earlier. "The infection seems to be spreading through some new sort of virus. Instead of just forcing infected cells to replicate its DNA, killing it in the process, it keeps the cell alive. Once the infection reaches the brain it somehow takes over the CNS, turning people into zombies. Exactly how this happens, no one has a bloody clue of. There also seems to be multiple variations of the virus at work at once."

"Wait what‽" The shout came from Alfred. He was snuggled up with Kiku in front of the main sofa.

Arthur nodded. "Somehow each virus caries multiple different DNAs, at least that's what they think, giving them the ability to produce specified viruses. Most viruses seem to be what they call 'passive guards'. They do little but keeping the cells 'zombified'. The 'aggressive', or 'soldiers', are the ones that actually turn you into a zombie. But the soldiers only seem to exist in the saliva."

"Why's that? Something with the enzymes?" Alfred asked.

Arthur sighed. "No one knows. If they did, they'd be a lot closer to a cure. But it means the only way to get turned is to get in contact with infected saliva. You have to get bitten. You could drink a litre of zombie blood and it wouldn't do shit."

"I'm guessing that's why they all drool like Al at a BBQ," Matthew chirped in.

This time Ludwig answered, ignoring Alfred's protest. "Ja. The saliva also seems to start working like a proto-venom. It causes pain to the point where you have problems seeking help on your own."

Forgetting all about his wounded ego, Alfred joined in again. "Ok that's pretty cool. Terrible, but cool. But the brain seems to work for taking them out, right?"

"Oui," Francis took over. "With the risk of sounding like a broken record, no one knows why. During the early stages they can still be…taken out like a normal human." He turned away and swallowed. "They get less human as time passes."

A thick silence spread throughout the room. None of the boys looked at each other. The only sound was the ticking clock on the wall. It seemed to echo.

It was a while before Matthew broke the silence. "So. What happens now?" His voice was barely loud enough to be heard over the clock.

Ludwig drew a deep breath. "Their plan is to send everybody home. They're going dormitory by dormitory, and are sending as many people as they can in groups. We've all been ordered to pack."

Three deafeningly quiet seconds ticked by before Yao spoke. "Me and Kiku can't go home."

* * *

 _Translations:_

 _Salut - French/Canadian French, hello._

 _Arschgeige - German, asshole, Lit 'assviolin'._

 _Du hast doch einen Vogel - German, you're crazy. Lit 'you have a bird'._

 _Ich bin fuchsteufelswild - German, I'm furious. Lit 'I'm foxsdevilswild'._

 _Handy - German, cellphone._

 _Bèn dàn - Mandarin('Chinese'), idiot/mooron. Lit. 'stupid egg'._

 _Es ist wurscht - German, it doesn't matter. Lit. 'it is sausage'._

 _Qīngwā - Mandarin('Chinese'), frog._

 _Merde - French, shit._

 _Améric-Means to say 'américa'. French, an inside joke regarding Alfreds patriotism._

 _Des caillous - French, pebbles. From my research, apparently something French parents sometimes say to their kids if they keep on asking about food. Francis picked up the habit from his parents, and it turned into an inside joke._

 _Mange des carottes, ça rend aimable - French, eat some carrots, you'll be nicer. Another phrace Francis picked up from his parents._

 _Hai - Japanese, yes._

 _Hello Opium - Arthur once complained about Yaos smoking habit. Yao reminded him about the Opium Wars, and took to calling him Opium to tease him._

 _Mio Dio! - Italian, my God!_

 _Fredka - Russian nickname for Alfred. Apparently, from the way it's constructed, it's supposed to be quite insulting._

 _Grazie - Italian, thank you._

 _Danke - German, thank you._

 _Ja - German, yes._

 _Oui - French, yes._


	2. There's To Much Talking Someone Shoot Me

"What do you mean we can't go home‽" Kiku burst out.

Yao had that look that most people get when they really really want Arnold Schwarzenegger to break down the door and shoot them. "Māmā called earlier today. ¨there don't seem to be any zombies in Japan yet, but they're shutting down the borders. From today, no one gets in or out. We can't get home."

Silence spread through the room. Though it didn't last very long.

"I can't either," Ivan sighed. He ran a hand through his hair. "Russia shut down their borders yesterday."

Arthur pinched his nose bridge. "Lovely. Just fucking lovely. Anyone else who can't get home?"

Feliciano raised his hand. "Nonno told me and Lovi to stay out of Italy for as long as we can. Southern Europe seems to be one of the worst hit areas."

Antonio nodded. "Si. My Madre doesn't want me to go home to Spain either. The whole country is infected."

"Then that's eight of us," Alfred added from the sofa. "Grandma's stuck in a quarantine camp. It's one of the reasons me and Matt came back here instead."

"Weren't you two from Texas? Don't you have family there?" Ivan asked.

Matthew tensed up. His eyes got the same glint as when he was about to punch some ones' teeth out on the ice.

Alfred had a similar reaction. His jaw tightened and he dug his nails into his palms. His voice was cold and harsh. "In Texas lives a bunch if homophobic assholes who just happens to share genes with us."

Matthew continued in the same tone as his brother. "They are **not** our family."

"Period, "the twins ended the conversation in chorus.

As seemed to be way to common this day, the room grew silent. Ivan looked away from the twins, for once not making any comments.

"Anyone else?" Arthur asked after a while. A couple of headshakes from Ludwig and Gilbert and silence from Francis was all he got. "Good." He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at it slightly. "So. What the hell do we do now?" he sighed.

"I don't think there's much we can do right now," Ludwig answered, his voice exhausted. He looked around the people in the room. "It's been a rough two days. It's late, and everyone's tired. I think the best would be for us to go to bed, and try to work things out tomorrow."

The statement resulted in some tired nods and agreements.

"Then me and Mattie are gonna claim the first showers," Alfred grinned. "Since we're the only ones who've actually been out fighting those things."

"Actually not," Francis said, his thoughtful expression exchanged for a smirk.

"Hu?" Alfred gave him a bewildered look.

Antonio grinned. "Gilbert used an old pipe to take out one that sneaked through the barricade yesterday."

"Oh come on!"

A couple of fights for the showers later, and some couples moving around, everyone was finally asleep. Or, almost everyone.

As the mighty hunter Gilbert stalked down the hallways looking for his prey(a glass of water), he realised he wasn't the only creature in the dark. Aka he wasn't the only insomniac weirdo out tonight.

On his way to the kitchen, he heard rapid French chatter from the common area. After getting his water, he went to investigate. Given what little he'd heard, it was no surprise to find Francis walking back and forth with his phone pressed up to his ear.

"Donc tu es sûr que c'est bon? He made the turn at the end of the room and jumped as he saw Gilbert. He quickly recovered. "Juste une seconde Maman, c'est Gilbert." He moved the receiver away from his lips. "Hey. Is there a problem?"

Gilbert just stared at his friend. "Francis. It's past two in the morning."

Francis turned to where the clock sat above the TV. The hands read 02:37. He gave a grimace. "Ah. Sorry. I'll just say goodbye here and the I'll go to bed. I promise."

"Ok. Give your parents my best." Gilbert nodded before leaving. He was too tired for this shit. The promise of a warm bed and cuddly boyfriend was way more tempting than the mysteries of insomniac French fries. Friends. French friends.

Damn he needed sleep.

Morning came, and with it came the groups morning routines. Gilbert, Ludwig, and Matthew were the first ones wake up, going on their morning run. Though this day Matthew choose to sleep in, since running was out of the question for a while. Yao and Kiku were usually next. Especially if it was Yaos turn to make breakfast. He and Francis loved cooking for the gang and had taken upon themselves to keep their little clan fed.

Arthur, Alfred, and Ivan were next, woken by the smell of food. By now Matthew also joined the land of the living. Oh wait. Zombies. Living-ish?

Normally, Francis would then show up shortly after the trio came back from their run. But today he was late. In fact, by some miracle of God, all three of Lovino, Feliciano, and Antonio had managed to get up before him.

It was nearing 11:30 when he finally made his way down the stairs and made a beeline straight for the coffee machine. He was approached by Antonio and Gilbert once he seemed less likely to start French Revolution 2.0. Half an hour later, the trio had gathered everyone once again in the common area.

Francis stood in front of the TV, blocking out the sight of the cloudy sky. He cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, friends. Yesterday we came to the conclusion that most of us are, for various reasons, unable to get home. But, I think I might have a solution."

When you have twelve different people speaking a collective of nine different languages, you get quite the mess when near everyone ends up surprised.

The cacophony quickly died down, allowing Francis to continue. "Some of you already know this, but my family owns a holiday house in the west coast of Scotland. It's almost by the sea, just south of Loch Na Keal. The closest village is a small place called Ollsi, and is about fifteen kilometres away. My family has managed to hang on to the house and some land around it since the early eighteen-hundreds. I've spoken to my parents, and we're more than willing to house all of you until things are sorted out. Whatever that ends up being."

Francis words were met by silence. And then questions.

But as everyone who's ever been in a classroom knows, a bunch of people screaming questions at each other's rarely works out. Even Francis himself got caught up in a screaming battle with Arthur.

It wasn't long before Ludwig had had enough. "QUIET!" Once everyone'd calmed down he turned to Francis. "I suggest you sit down. This'll take a while."

Once everyone was seated again, Gilbert was the first to raise his hand. "Are you sure there's room for all of us?"

"Oui, there is as long as you're ok with sharing rooms. It's…actually more of a mansion than a house. But if we've survived college, this should be a piece of cake."

Yao came next. "What about food and water? How will we get supplies for this many people?"

"There's both running water and electricity, as well as a freshwater river on the grounds. My parents will bring none-perishables, fresh supplies we'll have to buy from Ollsi. I also want to try and grow some crops like potatoes around the house."

"And what about zombies?" Ivan asked from the floor. "How will we protect ourselves?"

"There are zombies on the British Isles but they're few and far between, especially so far from big cities. That's why we're going there in the first place. But their governments have given special permission to keep weapons at home, and to carry them openly. There are some hunting rifles there, and my parents are working on getting more weapons. Both guns and close combat. The house itself lies away from any trees and the land is flat, so there's good view all around. Speaking of trees, there are pretty much none and the only forest area were planted by my family and our closest neighbour."

"Let me guess, your parents environmental crisis a couple of years ago?" Yao chuckled.

"Hunting actually. It's almost two hundred years old."

A couple of seconds passed before Matthew spoke up, "How are we all gonna get there? As I understood it we're all supposed to be sent to our own homes. That means we'll have to convince someone that we should all get to travel together instead. And if the house is that remote I doubt there's an airport nearby, assuming we're flying. So how to we get there from where ever we land?"

Francis sighed. "That's the only problem so far, and I've got yet to find a solution to it. But we do have another two weeks before we're scheduled to leave. Hopefully we'll have something figured out by then."

"I…don't think transportation will be a mega-problem." Alfred announced. "Since some of us can't go through with the original 'send-everyone-home-plan', what's the government gonna do? Like Ivan. He can't be sent to Russia, so he has to either be sent somewhere else or stay here. There should be a plan B for that. Also sending us as a group would be cheaper, faster, and easier for everyone involved!"

"He's right," Arthur added after sipping his tea. "There are loopholes to be exploited in this. We just have to find them."

"So who-" Antonio's question was interrupted by the horrifying rumble of Alfred's stomach.

Once the laughter died down, Yao proposed they eat lunch before planning further. When everyone'd agreed, Yao and Francis made their way into the kitchen and the rest started leaving. Seconds later a screech was heard from outside, followed by rapid gunfire. Gilbert ran up to the window. He saw three military personnel run out from between the dorm and the neighbour building. After them came a small hoard. Gilbert estimated a dozen. They caught up with the last of the soldiers. She turned and got her gun between her and the zombie grabbing at her. A bang was heard. Glass shattered and Gilbert shouted. A bullet had pierced the window, hitting him in the side. Ivan ran up to Gilbert as he collapsed. More glass shattered. This time caused by the several zombie hands trying to punch their way through the window. And succeeding worryingly well.

"Yebanoe dno!" Ivan cursed before heaving the profoundly swearing Gilbert onto his back. He turned to the people still in the hallway. "Get to the roof!"

Ludwig mirrored Ivan, giving the crutch bound Matthew a lifesaving piggyback ride. The rest were already sprinting up the stairs. Except for Alfred. He rushed to snatch his bat. He almost crashed into Francis, who came running from the kitchen with a first aid kit.

At the end of the stairs was a door, separating the bedrooms from the public areas. This door was firmly locked by Alfred, who'd placed himself last as the only one armed. From below came sounds of zombies and guns. He sprinted after the others. Once on floor five, he went up the last narrow staircase that lead to the roof. The door snapped shut behind him, locking itself. Antonio and Ivan were trying to move the wooden box containing their herb garden. With Alfred and Francis help they maneuvered it in front of the door.

"Stay still!"

"It ficken hurts!"

"You're making it worse!"

"Scheiße!"

Gilbert was propped up against the low wall surrounding the roof. Matthew was trying to patch him up. Yao and Kiku were looking around with frenzied movements.

"Tā mā de!" Yao cursed. "That won't keep them out for long. We need to get out of here!"

"Pizda pulyu," Ivan sighed.

"The next roof!" Francis said. "We can jump, but I don't think they can follow us"

Ludwig frowned. "But bruder-!"

"I can make the jump," Gilbert interrupted. "I've done it before. But Mattie can't with his leg."

"That's why I'm trying to find something to help us over, èr bī!" Yao growled.

Antonio's head snapped away from the door. His eyes locked with Francis. They both shouted in unison, "The planks!"

Antonio stepped up to have a running start. He sprinted and leapt over the two-and-a-half-meter gap. Francis lined up parallel to him. From some hiding place on the other roof, Antonio fetched what looked like a makeshift wooden bridge. He hefted one end over to Francis. Everyone but Gilbert just stared at them.

"What the bloody hell is that‽" Arthur asked.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "It's a bridge, the heck did you thiiiiiiiiink‽" he hissed when Matthew increased the pressure.

Arthur frowned. "I can see what it is. But what the hell is it doing here‽"

No one really bothered to answer. They were more interested in the increasingly loud sounds from behind the door.

"Let's worry about that later. You guys starts jumping. Mattie, you go first," Gilbert barked.

Matthew glared at him. "Gilbert, if you think I'll-!"

"Just go, I'll be right behind you. The quicker you get over, the quicker I get over."

Matthew opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. "Fine!" He handed the crutches to Ludwig. "Here. Could you throw them over? I don't want to drop them."

Ludwig heaved the crutches over to Ivan. With Francis help Matthew dragged himself up onto the ledge. He crawled forwards. Apparently, the breach hadn't been fixed yet, because more zombies had gathered in the alley. There were no traces of the soldiers from earlier. Matthew moved as quiet as he could. He didn't know if the creatures were still aware enough to climb a building. Honestly, he didn't want to know. At least not now.

The escapade went smoothly. While Matthew made his way over, everyone but Francis and Gilbert had done so as well. As Gilbert made his way over he paused. His hands were wet with blood and he tried to shake the slippery fluid of his hands. Apparently zombies are like sharks, because the moment after there were fanatic screams coming from below. Gilbert jumped. As he regained his balance a loud crack was heard from the bridge. He could feel the wood starting to give out beneath him.

"Scheiße!"

* * *

 _Translations:_

 _Māmā_ _\- Mandarin('Chinese'), Mother._

 _Nonno - Italian, Grandfather._

 _Si - Spanish, yes._

 _Madre - Spanish, Mother._

 _Donc tu es sûr que c'est bon? Nous avons assez d'espace? Nous devrons partager des chambres, mais cela ne devrait pas poser de problème. - French, You're sure it's ok? We have enough space? We'll have to share rooms, but that shouldn't be a problem._

 _Juste une seconde Maman, c'est Gilbert. - French, Just a second mom, it's Gilbert._

 _Yebanoe dno! - Russian, this can't get any worse. Lit. 'fucking bottom'._

 _Ficken. - German, fucking._

 _Scheiße. - German, shit._

 _Tā mā de. - Mandarin('Chinese'), fuck! Lit. his mothers._

 _Pizda pulyu. - Russian, Everything is fucked. We're screwed._

 _Èr bī. - Mandarin('Chinese'), fucking idiot. Lit. double vagina._

 _Scheiße. - German, shit._


	3. I Didn't Mean It Literally!

Gilbert kept perfectly still. Apart from the increasingly long string of; "Scheiße, arsch, ficken verdammt, scheiße scheiße scheiße...!"

As Gilbert worked on upping his swear quota to cover the next year, Alfred took a deep breath.

"Ok dude. Let's fix this. Think you can try one more step?" He stood next to Antonio. Both had their hands outstretched.

Gilbert swallowed. He slowly moved one hand a little bit forwards. The wood groaned but held. He moved his other hand. The planks cracked. Gilbert retrieved the limb. He could see where the wood was breaking. "Nicht gut nicht gut nicht gut nicht gut…!"

"Ok ok ok," Alfred rambled. "Plan B. Think you can lay on your stomach?"

Gilbert didn't seem to like the idea of losing the only leverage he had for jumping. But hey, weight distribution for the win! He still tried to favour his left side when laying down. Since, ya know, there was a big-ass hole through the right one. But at least he was laying down.

By now Gilbert was close enough for Alfred and Antonio to grab his arms. They slowly dragged him forward. When Gilberts fingertips reached the edge, the bridge broke completely. He fell like an extremely non-aerodynamic pendulum and hit the wall with a shout. Alfred and Antonio fought to keep their grip on Gilberts bloody arms. Everyone was still. Gilbert breathed heavily.

"Hey. Are you ok?" Antonio asked.

"When I get a hold of the guy who shot me, I'm gonna shove his gun up his arsch," Gilbert fumed. "Now, would you be so kind and FICKEN HELP ME UP!"

Ludwig ran up next to Antonio. He leaned down and grabbed Gilberts hoodie. Once everyone had a secure grip, they dragged him onto the roof. He'd barely sat down before Matthew was there to patch him up. Again.

Back on the other roof, Francis attempted to get his heart to stop bitching and get back to work. It was going fairly well. Until a very ill-mannered zombie hit the metal door with a loud BANG!

Rude!

More banging sounds were heard. Francis decided that it was NOT the time to lecture the undead the undead in proper etiquette. So he joined his friends to live to fight another day.

It took a while, but eventually the breach and the zombies were taken care off. As suspected, they hadn't been able to jump. Not that some hadn't tried. Mashed-zombie sounds better than it looks. And given how un-fun it sounds, you can guess how un-fun it was to look at. Gilbert got properly patched up. The shot turned out to be a series of unfortunate events involving a roof-patrolling sniper and a faulty sight. It took the rest of the day before they were allowed inside the dorm again. A series of less unfortunate events involving bio-hazard suits and the removal of blood and zombie-goo. With so much having happened, and so much left to plan and discuss, everyone promptly went to bed.

Some days you wake up and you know the day is going to go well. You feel well rested, nothing major goes wrong, and the world just seem a little bit brighter, right? Well today was not such a day for Gilbert Beilschmidt. He began by waking up to the not-so-fun pain in his side. He'd flat out refused to spend the night at the makeshift hospital, so there were no nurses or doctors there to help. At least Matthew's medical jumbo had made the doctors give him green light to distribute the painkillers. Speaking of, that was the second thing he noticed. A distinct lack of cordial cuddly Canadian. On top of this it felt like someone had taken all the stuffing from the pillow and showed it through his ears. After noticing all things wrong with the world, Gilbert slowly opened his eyes and squinted around the room. He groaned. The blackout curtains weren't pulled all the way down. And through the small gap shone the bright sunlight of summer.

See Gilbert was an albino. This on its own wasn't much of a problem. In fact, he thought it was rather cool. The problem was, well, what came with. Like having to suffer through summers in sweatshirts and long sleeves so he wouldn't burn. And always having to wear special tinted glasses, indoors and outdoors. General loss of eyesight and strabismus were fine, but photophobia as well? At least Matthew and Alfred didn't have people asking _why_ they had glasses. Or teachers thinking they were wearing 'sunglasses' indoors. Normally he didn't care much. But sometimes he just loathed them. Especially when he hadn't used them due to an unusually cloudy week. Oh well. Time to stop whining and carpe fucking diem.

After somehow getting his sleeping pants stuck in the bedframe, re-figuring out how t-shirts worked, and failing to make the bed, he showed the glasses onto his face. At least he made it downstairs. There he discovered one boyfriend and one French fry(friend!) making a mix of European and American pancakes. And the former had brought the painkillers. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad day after all?

Of fucking course it would be a bad day after all.

Gilbert was placed in front of the TV, nursing a headache. Matthew was sitting next to him, foot perched on the coffee table. It was nearing 18:00 and Yao was hysterical. He was currently pacing around the kitchen, screaming at his phone.

Gilbert sighed. "You think he's gonna calm down and tell us what's wrong soon?"

Matthew leaned forwards a bit. He quickly retreated back when the dorms only wok came flying from the kitchen. It passed way too close to their noses and crashed into the wall. Matthew stared at Gilbert for a second. "Nope."

Alfred choose that moment to walk through the front door. He paused to greet them, a move which just barely saved him from getting hit in the face with a saucepan. He turned to the kitchen. "Jesus on a stick Yao! What's up‽ Someone die‽"

Yao walked up to Alfred, screamed something probably insulting, and continued to the window. All while furiously hitting the buttons on his phone.

Alfred blinked in a rather striking imitation of a goldfish. He turned to the duo on the couch, from which he received two very unhelpful shrugs.

Yao screamed in frustration. He ripped the phone from his ear and threw it in the direction of the kitchen.

The devices areal travel was interrupted by Ivan. He caught it and turned to Yao. His voice was surprisingly calm. "And why did you try to kill your phone?"

Yao stood panting, red in the face. For a moment it seemed like he would explode. Then the colour drained from him. He sagged all the way down into one of the armchairs. He put his head in his hands but didn't say anything.

"I'll explain." Kiku came out from the kitchen. He was paler that usual, but seemed more collected than Yao. "It's one of our sisters, Mei. We just got to know she's not in Tokyo with the rest of our family. She went to a parkour competition in France and-"

"I can't reach her phone." Yaos voice was hoarse. "It says the number's not in service and that fucking excuse of a man won't even tell me what city she's in and-!" His ramble switched to mandarin.

Kiku went up and grabbed Yaos shoulders. "Yao, pull yourself together. There are other ways we can try and reach her."

Yao stared at Kiku for a moment. He took a deep breath. "You're right. You try to reach the others, and I'll try her social media?"

Kiku nodded and pulled out his phone. Yao left the room and sprinted up the stairs.

Gilbert spouted a pretty good copy of Alfred's goldfish face. "Wait. Your dad won't tell you where your sister is? Why the fuck not?"

Kiku paused. He stared at his phone for a moment before letting out a sigh. "Me and Yao are only half siblings. Our mother and his father divorced shortly after he was born. Mom moved to Japan, where she met my father. He and Yao…didn't really get along. He keeps a lot of things from Yao, including important information." Kiku tensed before he realised the person hugging him was Alfred. "It messed with my and Yaos relationship for a while. We worked things out in the end. And then they adopted the rest of our siblings…" He shook his head. "In the end all of us felt like he just wanted many children for bragging rights." He slid out of Alfreds arms. "Either way, I need to call them. Excuse me." He quickly retreated to the kitchen.

Alfred hesitated for a second before following. Ivan left as well.

Gilbert turned to Matthew. "Well this day was a fucking disaster."

The next morning Alfred and Arthur disappeared out the door without even looking at the food Francis was making. Francis almost burnt his pancake. Like Arthur would skip breakfast every now and then, but Alfred? Skipping food? Was the world ending or something?

Ok so not the best comparison, but still.

It was past lunch time when the two showed up again. They were greeted by Ivan. "Why are you two grinning like mad men?"

"Well chap!" Arthur headed straight for the fridge. "We've just been of talking to the people responsible for moving us students. They seemed a bit stressed over the whole thing. The poor lad we talked to almost cried when we suggested just dumping us all in one group." He grabbed a box of leftovers. "We still have bits to figure out but with some luck, we'll all be hearing the sound of bag-pipes in just a few months!"

Well those two months were boring! One would have thought the end of the world would be more interesting, but nope. Convincing people that sending them all together took little effort. Packing hardly makes for an action scene. And once you have properly built walls it's not like you're going to have a zombie break-in every other day. So, time for moving day!

Ludwig stood in the doorway to his and Feliciano's room. His own side was still recognisable but the other…

The art student had already been there when he'd moved in to begin his vet studies. The first time he'd entered the room it smelled of paint. No surprise given that Feliciano had been painting at the moment. But that smell never went away. Feliciano could spend a week or two with his sketchbooks, tablet, or camera instead of brushes. Ludwig could clean the room floor to ceiling. He could probably have scrubbed everything with bleach and a toothbrush and it'd still smell like paint. He couldn't even say what paint. Acrylics? Water colours? Oil? Probably all of them.

The room no longer smelled like paint. It had been two months since Feliciano last touched his brushes("What's the point? It's not like I can bring them with me."). The easel was standing empty in the brightest corner of the room. There was a couple of empty canvases next to it, and empty cups labelled PAINT-WATER. The desk was empty. No three open sketch books, no drawing tablet, no camera, no pens, no pencils. Photos and sketches were long since gone and neatly packed. The only thing left were five canvases hanging on the walls. Where they would stay.

Ludwig sighed. He sat down next to the duvet covered lump on the bed. Feliciano's long, tan fingers were the only thing poking out of the cocoon. Two months, and of course he still had ink and pencil stains all over his hands. You'd think they were tattooed if it wasn't for the constant colour shifting.

"You have to come out of there now."

The hands grip tightened.

"Feli we're leaving soon. You need to come down and eat before that."

The albino caterpillar moved around until it was sitting up. Ludwig sighed, again. At least it was an improvement. "Feliciano…"

"Why can't I just stay in here. It's nice and warm and nothing is trying to eat me."

Ludwig knew his smile didn't reach his eyes. "You can't run to me for help if you stay there."

"You could join me."

Ludwig ignore the burning in his ears. "You know I can't. My brother is leaving. So is yours. And Kiku. We can't just let them leave on their own."

The sigh was so soft Ludwig almost missed it. "I know." The duvet fell back, revealing a complete bird's nest. The morning sun brought out hints of red in his hair.

They spent a moment in silence before Feliciano turned to Ludwig. There was a bright blue stain on his nose. Yesterday he'd forgotten to put down his marker before pushing his hair out of the way. "I'm scared." He picked at some old scars across his knuckles. He didn't seem to notice. "What if the bus breaks down? Or there's a zombie horde? Or if there's mean people like in that movie-‽"

Ludwig put his hands on top of Feliciano's. "Please be quiet."

Feliciano blushed.

Ludwig sighed again, again. "These are military vehicles. They won't break easily. And if they do there's plenty of people, including me, who can fix them. And we'll have plenty of people with weapons to defend us. I won't let anything happen to you." The last words slipped out before his brain caught up. Thankfully his pondering over whether it was possible to die from embarrassment, were interrupted by Feliciano's laugh. Ok, so maybe the awkwardness was worth it.

"Thank you Ludwig."

The silence stretched out longer this time. Until Ludwig realised he was still holding Feliciano's hands. He cleared his throat. "Anyway. As I said we're leaving soon. You better come down if you want any breakfast."

Ludwig made a move to leave but was dragged back by Feliciano. Then there was a hand on his neck and soft lips on his. He honestly couldn't tell if the kiss lasted an eternity or a couple of seconds. Somehow both.

When they parted Feliciano was as red as Ludwig felt.

"I've wanted to do that for a while," Feliciano grinned. "And the apocalypse seemed like a good enough reason to go for it."

Ludwig stared a Feliciano for a moment before kissing him again. It was hesitant and not a little bit awkward. But he was pretty sure he could now die a happy man.

As they parted again, Feliciano giggled. "Your ears are all tomato red!"

Ludwig decided that the best way to get Feliciano to stop talking(and hide his ears)was to pull him into a hug. He buried his face in the others brown locks. He couldn't stop the honest smile that spread across his face. Two long months. And Feliciano still smelled ever so faintly of paint.

* * *

 _Translations:_

 _Scheiße, arsch, ficken verdammt, scheiße scheiße scheiße - German, Shit, ass, fucking damn it, shit shit shit_

 _Nicht gut nicht gut nicht gut nicht gut - German, Not good not good not good not good_


End file.
